


if we could just pretend...

by nathanyoung



Category: Misfits (TV 2009)
Genre: Autistic Simon Bellamy, Gifted Kid Burnout, I'm Bad At Tagging, Kind of a vent fic, M/M, Nathan Young Has Feelings, Nathan Young has ADHD, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Indulgent, Suicidal Thoughts, but not really it's just a quote from the bowling alley scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:08:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29483469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nathanyoung/pseuds/nathanyoung
Summary: there's only six weeks until community service ends, and nathan finds himself worrying about what comes next.
Relationships: Simon Bellamy/Nathan Young
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	1. seems like a hollow place

**Author's Note:**

> self-indulgent fic without a real plot because i cope by projecting onto my favorite characters. not my first misfits fic but the first one i've had the balls to post; i'm hoping to keep it going. just wrote this tonight while bored & worrying about the future, sorry if it makes no sense.  
> title is from a flatsound song that i've been listening to on loop for weeks  
> also nathan young has ADHD because i have it & i said so

the thing about it was adjusting. existing in the real world... what sort of person prepares for that?

maybe normal people. maybe people who had things going for them.

nathan young was not one of those people.

he’d always found his last name to be pretty hilarious; ironic, even. he felt as if he’d be forever young, forever a static character, unchanging and carefree. in some aspects, that rang true. in others, not so much. was he still as carefree, funny, and even annoying as he’d been for his entire life? sure. in fact, he took pride in it. but he never matured. he didn’t know how to take care of himself. how was he meant to get a job and exist in the real world if he couldn’t even practice self-preservation?

turns out, becoming homeless, depressed, and immortal takes a toll on a guy.

* * *

twenty years old and back from the dead, nathan young found his name more hilarious and ironic than he’d ever thought possible. _immortality._ that sure was off the a-list; and it just so happened to stem from his own perception of himself. he couldn’t decide if it was a blessing or a curse, being forever young. physically? that didn’t seem too awful. but in any other aspect? maybe not a blessing.

a long sigh echoed through the community centre’s empty corridor as nathan blew out a cloud of smoke. his slender fingers fiddled with the joint between them as he watched the ash fall onto the grimy tile below. he’d been smoking more recently, ever since the pills stopped working like they used to. he was desperate for anything to take him out of his own head, if even for an hour or two, because being stuck in there was so _shit_. he’d never show it, of course, but he was at the end of his rope. and since he was now immortal, apparently, there was pretty much nothing he could do about it.

he couldn’t get high as fast as he used to, which was both surprising and not at all shocking at the same time. of course he’d built up a tolerance, he was smoking nearly every second of the day at this point; not as if he could die from it.

regretfully sober until the weed did its job, he let out another sigh and leaned back onto his withering mattress. thoughts of the future plagued his mind.

six weeks until the end of community service. he’d obviously not been serious when he suggested joining the circus to exploit his power for money, but it _did_ seem like his only option. what else could he do? he’d never had a job before, and damn near everything required some sort of experience nowadays; what sort of a shitty paradox was that? where was he meant to get experience if no job would hire without it?

he wondered how long he could continue living in the centre. he was surprised he hadn’t been found out yet, so it had to happen soon. could he keep it up even after community service ended? probably not, but where else could he go?

definitely not back with his mum and her feral boyfriend. he already lied about his flat, about having imaginary flatmates; how had she even believed that? if he was insufferable enough for his entire family to abandon him, how could he have flatMATES -- not just one, but multiple people putting up with his shit. either he was an astounding liar, or his mum couldn’t be fucked to care, so long as he was away and not living under the flyover.

as his mind wandered through past events, he found himself remembering the encounter that set the whole shitshow in motion; the _incident_. the day he’d been done for eating pick n mix, which none of the other asbo shitheads believed. he wondered how long it’d take for someone to finally accept it, or if they each had their own theories of what horrendous thing he must’ve done, something so bad that he would have lied about it. something worse than a failed arson attempt? he couldn’t even think of anything that bad.

he thought a lot about what he’d said to bev, though. that lingered in his mind more than most things; surprising, since he’d always had a pretty shit memory to begin with, and he tended to not dwell on insignificant things/insignificant people.

but he remembered one thing from that night.

_“i_ _know_ _i’m better than all this; because, bev, if i’m not, i’ll probably have to_ _kill myself_ _!”_

not as if he could do that now, of course.

but regardless of his circumstances, he still sided with his past self on that. he’d never told any of the gang, but he’d had potential at some point. his mind filled with images of report cards from his youth; outstanding marks, comments from teachers, calling him ‘a pleasure to have in class’, his mum telling him that he was one in a million, that he would do some amazing things someday.

that all stopped when he was about fifteen.

gifted kid burnout, they all call it. sure, his marks were still high, but now, he was, too. and his high marks could only be attributed to those angels on the internet who posted exact answers to whatever assignments he brought home. his potential was wasted, and so was he. somewhere along the way, it’d all turned to dust. work piled up, he became more insufferable and unwilling to adjust, and a breakdown on one fateful night had led to a string of events he’d thankfully forgotten. the only thing he remembered was the end; the ADHD diagnosis.

and it made a lot of sense. he laughed about it for days, cursing himself for not realising it sooner. his mum, despite being there while he was diagnosed, still refused to accept it, just calling him lazy and saying he was wasting his potential. he learned to stop caring at some point.

surprisingly, against all odds, he’d graduated. there was a small party, mostly just so he could get money off relatives whose names escaped him, and then he heard the question for the first time. the one that he’d never be able to leave behind, because he’d been asked it so much that it was now burned into his brain, to the point where he’d ask himself every day now.

_“so, what are you going to do now?”_

when he was 18, at the graduation party, he went with the easiest answer. taking a gap year. _“finding myself”_ , or some bullshit like that. everyone seemed satisfied with his answer, but when that gap year, spent mostly in his bedroom or in bowling alleys, turned into a gap-thirteen-months, his mum began asking again.

_“what are you going to do?”_

_“i don’t know yet,”_ he’d always reply. it wasn’t a lie. he didn’t know how his mates from school had planned their entire lives before they’d hit puberty. he was now 19 and had no clue what to do, but he knew it couldn’t be some mundane shit. and since he couldn’t afford college in the first place, one gap year turned to two.

at age 20, he found himself in a bowling alley again. his mum had urged him to get a job there once, since he spent most of his time there anyways, but they were never hiring. figures. 

but there he was, that fateful night: 20, unemployed, a shitty bowler accompanied by two of his only friends who were quite obviously getting sick of him and his refusal to grow up. after hyping himself up only to lose his ball to the gutter, solidifying his shitty score, he walked off. found himself stood in front of the pick n mix, and that’s where it began.

well, really, it all began by the fridge; but that drink was so horrible, he preferred to omit it from all of his re-tellings of that infamous story.

and that was how he found himself in an office, staple gun in hand, vowing to kill himself if he didn’t live up to his own expectations.

ironically, since he’d decided to use that staple gun, he now had no way of ever fulfilling that promise he’d made.

the future seemed like a hollow, bleak destination. something you stare at while looking out of the car window on a long road trip. a windmill or a highway sign, just anything to focus on. it’d be in the distance as the car approached it, be in view for a second or two, and then be far, far behind.

what was he meant to focus on?

* * *

simon sat in bed, dark room illuminated only by the bright white coming from his laptop’s old screen. he was editing, as usual. but this time, he’d dared to plug his earbuds in. a small venture towards some sort of victory; it felt suffocating, but the way the sound filled his ears was therapeutic.

he’d gotten used to it, lately. new sensations. mostly the way his earbuds felt, formerly something that would make him feel as if he was screaming underwater, but now a feeling he relied on to make it to community service every day. the walk was long, but he had a playlist specifically for it, and things weren’t so bad. now he could even listen to music in his own bed, playlists on his ipod gently whispering as he fell asleep to their soft melodies. he hadn’t worked his way up to blasting music just yet. he was still afraid of home invasions.

his phone lit up suddenly, scaring him out of whatever trance he’d been in. he wasn’t used to getting texts, especially not in the middle of the night. 

especially not from nathan.

confused, but curious nonetheless, he opened the message, expecting some sort of taunt or something as simple as a photo of a melon. the message’s contents, however, left him more confused than he’d been before.

**_You ever think about the future?_ **

_All the time. Why are you asking me this now?_ simon went with a simple response, nothing that could be used against him. at least, he hoped it couldn’t be.

his phone dinged again.

**_What r u gnna do when we finish this community service bollocks_ **

simon stared at the screen, unable to think of a reply. of course he had a plan, but why would nathan want to know? why now?

he sighed as he reminded himself to stop overthinking.

_I’m going to go to college. I want to become a director._

**_So thats why u film us all the time. thought u were just a little perv. good on u man, got some experience already_ **

_I’ve always liked filmmaking. What do you want to do?_

**_Not sure. thought abt joining the circus nd lettin them murder me for laughs but dyin is painful nd I dont think I could handle tht every day 4ever_ **

_Are you texting me because you’re having a crisis about the future?_

**_U watchin me have a crisis right now ? invisible perv, show urself_ **

_I’m at home, Nathan. Is something wrong?_

**_Nah, just thinkin._ **

_About what?_

**_The future, u twat, jesus i thought u were the brains of the group_ **

_There’s time to figure it out. Why don’t you go to sleep, we could talk about it tomorrow. It’s Saturday, I can come to the centre if you want._

**_stop tryin to get me 2 shag u barry_ **

_You know that isn’t what I meant. Should I invite everyone else, then?_

**_y dont we just have a group hangout yknow like the fellas in movies_ **

_That doesn’t sound terrible. What if we all meet at the bar on the estate?_

**_Nah the bartender has it out for me cos i shat in the urinals. Dont tell him i lied n said it wasnt me. anyways no thats a waste of money, i can steal us some booze frm the kitchen n we can hang on the roof. i get the comfy chair cos im gettin the drinks_ **

_Okay. I’ll let everyone else know. We can work out a time later on. It’s nearly 3am, get some sleep._

**_Party pooper i’ll stay up all nite if i wanna_ **

_I don’t think you should do that. I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Nathan._

**_boooooo gnite boring barry. that should be yr nickname. Boooring._ **

simon laughed at the message, not bothering to correct nathan as he put his things away and allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't bother to proofread this because i wrote it in the middle of the night to vent while contemplating my existence and listening to a sad playlist, let me know if it sucks or not. chapter title's from "the devil in my bloodstream" by the wonder years (which i'm listening to right now and man it hits) & there's a few scattered references to the lyrics in here. i think.  
> simon's experience with the suffocating feeling of wearing earbuds inside is based on my own; managed to overcome it while writing this, though.  
> i suck at formalities and i'm new here, so sorry about all this but i hope yall at least enjoyed this diary entry of a fic


	2. late dawns and early sunsets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "wertham had never been so dull, yet lively all at once.
> 
> a pink-orange sunset obscured by grey clouds, a slight breeze to signify the changing of seasons, the perfect temperature to purely exist in the outside world. but in that moment, it was just the five of them; not a sound or a soul below them. those souls filled the local clubs and bars, same as every saturday, leaving the town empty with a slow-and-steady heartbeat to keep it around for just a bit longer.
> 
> smells of cigarette smoke blew in from every direction all at once: suffocating, comforting, filled with nostalgia. it smelled like innocence in a twisted way. the closest thing to a childhood one could find in these parts. the scents of liquor and average weed felt the same.
> 
> the sound of a camera shutter broke the empty silence. a white-hot flash pointed south, gone as soon as it came."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i still don't know where i'm going with this fic, but i wanted to update it. hope y'all enjoy :)  
> also; chapter title's from "early sunsets over monroeville" by mcr. might just name all of these chapters after songs i listen to while writing.

saturday evenings, nathan learned, are objectively better spent on rooftops.

with stolen alcohol. 

and a band of fellow criminals, all gathered together to watch the sun set in the polluted city sky.

they sat in silence for a while, all appreciating the evening glow in their own way. even kelly, who had better control over her power by now, had managed to escape the noise, not hearing any thoughts other than her own for the first time in months. 

wertham had never been so dull, yet lively all at once.

a pink-orange sunset obscured by grey clouds, a slight breeze to signify the changing of seasons, the perfect temperature to purely exist in the outside world. but in that moment, it was just the five of them; not a sound or a soul below them. those souls filled the local clubs and bars, same as every saturday, leaving the town empty with a slow-and-steady heartbeat to keep it around for just a bit longer.

smells of cigarette smoke blew in from every direction all at once: suffocating, comforting, filled with nostalgia. it smelled like innocence in a twisted way. the closest thing to a childhood one could find in these parts. the scents of liquor and average weed felt the same.

the sound of a camera shutter broke the empty silence. a white-hot flash pointed south, gone as soon as it came. the gang turned their attention towards the source, where simon was holding a polaroid camera.

"to capture the moment," he said. “six more weeks until we finish... i want to document it all.”

"well... aren’t we still gonna do shit like this once we've finished?" alisha asked. "like, what's gonna happen to us? are we gonna forget this ever happened?"

"that's dead depressing," kelly muttered.

"we'll all stay in touch." curtis shrugged, maintaining his ever-present unbothered demeanour. 

"will we, though? i mean, they say that shit at graduations all the time, when was the last time any of you 'kept in touch' with your friends from school?" nathan cut in. 

"did you even have friends in school?" alisha laughed. 

"did you?"

alisha fell silent; so did everyone else.

"you know, like, those kids from your school, that never really had any mates, for whatever reason?" nathan broke the silence, his question seemingly directed to everyone. regardless of intentions, he got four nods in response, a signal to go on. "i guess that's us. y'know, all those weird kids. teamed up to take over the world."

silence. 

"okay, maybe not the last part."

“is this about that superhero shit again?” alisha groaned. “i don’t want to get wrapped up in that. i mean, what kind of superhero has such a shitty power?”

“you could use it to create a distraction,” simon pointed out.

“i already said, i don’t want to be a freak.”

“so what’re you gonna do?” nathan inquired. “not many options if you can’t even shake someone’s hand, right?”

“dunno. thought about modeling.”

that silent wave washed over the five again; the future was close. they could feel it in the palpable tension, a product of whatever had gone through nathan’s head the night before. simon thought about it, praying that kelly couldn’t hear. where did this all come from? and nathan hadn’t even brought it up all night. simon took it upon himself to raise the burning question.

“you could do that.” his words cut through the air. “i’m getting more into photography, if you need help starting out…”

alisha simply nodded as he trailed off. he could see the disinterest in her eyes and began to regret even speaking in the first place.

“what about the rest of you?” he shifted the subject to avoid the awkwardness.

“i wanna run again,” curtis replied as if he’d rehearsed those words over and over again. “i doubt any coach is gonna work with me, but… worth a shot, innit?”

“but still not in the olympics, i’m guessin’?” nathan asked with a shit-eating grin.

“piss off. aren’t you gonna join the _circus_? i think my goals are more solid than yours, mate.”

“apparently the circus is harder to get into than i imagined,” nathan replied as he chugged the last of his beer. “can you _believe_ there’s so many clowns running around here?”

“i’m talkin’ to one,” curtis said as he smirked.

“stop talkin’ to yourself, then, weirdo.” surprisingly, the rest of the gang laughed at this, despite appearing to favor curtis over nathan most days. curtis, unable to think of a witty reply, just rolled his eyes.

“my point is,” nathan continued, “we spend every day scrapin’ up dog shit and cleanin’ badly-spray-painted dicks off walls. we should at least be gettin’ _paid_ for this shit, come on… not to mention the fact that we’re superheroes.” he threw his empty bottle to the ground in a sad attempt at a makeshift mic drop.

“i’d say we’re more like vigilantes,” simon said bluntly.

“you’d know, wouldn’t you? jesus, let me be happy about savin’ the world.”

“how is killing two probation workers saving the world, exactly?” alisha butted in.

“easy. they were rude twats. two less rude twats in the world, and everyone’s ungrateful. plus, the first probation worker killed that ugly fella, so that’s _three_ less rude twats. the bastard tried to fight me two minutes after i met him, he had it coming at that point.”

“it’s weird to think tha’ we’ve actually done this.” kelly spoke solemnly, as if she regretted it all. “i thought this’d be normal community service, ya know? like the boring shit we used to see.”

“the storm changed everything,” simon muttered, almost as if he were thinking out loud. “i think i’m glad it did.”

“are you serious?” curtis laughed. “the amount of shit we’ve been through... i would rather be doing boring shit than burying bodies.”

“i guess i’m just…” simon trailed off, knowing he was about to sound pathetic. it wasn’t worth it. kelly sensed the sudden change in his demeanour, and made an effort to activate her power for the first time that night; she did so just in time to catch the last of simon’s thought.

_i guess i’m just glad i finally found friends. if they even consider me to be their friends… no, they wouldn’t. they never would._

his thoughts jumbled, turned to something else kelly couldn’t quite understand, but she patted his knee anyways and gave him a small smile.

_you heard that?_

kelly had recently noticed simon’s tendencies to project his thoughts into her brain. she’d found it odd at first, but quickly came to understand that it was helpful for him; when he was afraid of being ridiculed by everyone else, he knew she wouldn’t judge. he could speak to her without having to say anything, and the thought that someone trusted her that much nearly made her cry right there.

she simply nodded instead.

“i don’t think we’d be this close if it weren’t for the storm,” kelly said, filling in the words when simon couldn’t find them. “i’m glad it wasn’t normal. we got superpowers and good stories, yeah? that’s better than pickin’ up dog shit with people you’ve got nothin’ in common with.”

“amen,” nathan practically yelled as he raised a new beer bottle to the sky. the rest of the gang followed suit, raising their drinks and joints as a toast to the second half of their community service and whatever would come next.

the sun finally set, out of sight and out of mind, leaving nothing but five young offenders under a sky too polluted to make out any stars.

there was the sound of a camera shutter again, accompanied by the bright, sudden flash. nobody spoke this time.

* * *

they sat there for what felt like forever, each of them content with the idea that, while community service had been filled with trauma so far (almost an understatement), their found family was the one good thing to come out of it. the one thing meant to last until the end, like fate or destiny or whatever bullshit reasons they’d run into each other.

curtis knew it had to be fate. he knew it almost too well. he knew this was an alternate timeline, not the same one he’d started community service in, but now nearly identical. he also knew that, after he’d gone back, he’d seen every one of them that night. nathan in the car park, kelly in the stairwell, alisha at the bar, and simon shoving the police officer to the ground. he wondered if any of them remembered him from that night; but even if they didn’t, he always would. he knew this was meant to happen somehow.

fate. five criminals, a found family who met through a twisted destiny and their passion for misconduct. it was strange to think about how their lives intertwined. how they might untangle completely in less than six weeks, how the future could break them apart just like how the past had brought them together.

* * *

“i’m gonna go.” alisha's voice broke the never-ending silence. “got a curfew, and the last time i broke it i ended up with a little-dicked cop trying to shag me in the probation worker’s office. this shitty power…” she trailed off as she recoiled at the memory.

“want me to walk you home?” curtis asked with a small smile. the rest of the gang exchanged looks, knowing where this was headed, and watched alisha smirk and nod as she stood up.

“see you on monday, yeah? this was fun.” alisha spoke with a smile, a genuine one for once.

“see ya.” kelly waved before standing up as well. “i better go, too. if i wait too long i’m gonna have some creep tryin’ to chase me down.”

“are you gonna be okay? alone? i could walk with you, even if it’s out of my way…” simon offered with a concerned look.

“nah, you’re alright. last guy backed off when i headbutted him, i’m not afraid to do it again. ‘s not that far anyway.”

she waved again as she walked inside, leaving only simon and nathan, neither of the two having much to say.

* * *

the night sky hung over their heads like a cloud of smoke, slowly creeping in as the silence became overwhelming. nathan noticed his leg bouncing involuntarily, another sign that he was bored out of his mind. he looked around for a distraction before realising that there was none; which resulted in him chugging the rest of his beer before chucking the bottle over the roof’s edge, standing hunched over in anticipation until he finally heard the sound of glass shattering from somewhere near the lake. 

“ _nice!_ ” he exclaimed. “think i broke my record.”

“what was that for?” simon asked, visibly shaken from the sudden noise. 

“fun.” nathan shrugged as he slumped back into his chair. “so, what's up with you?”

“what do you mean?”

“i mean, everyone else is leavin’. you got a home to go to, barry?”

“i can stay for a while. i don’t have much else to do.”

“well, at least say somethin’ while you're here. the silence is gonna kill me. again!”

“what do you want to talk about?”

“anything, i dunno. i’m bored.”

simon was quiet for a moment, lost in his own thoughts. it was hard to think of anything to say that wouldn't get him ridiculed, especially around nathan. being alone with him felt strange, though simon could never figure out exactly why it was. part of it could be because he couldn’t forget the last time they were alone was on this same rooftop; the time simon lost his grip and watched in horror as one of his only friends fell down, down, down, backwards off the edge of the roof. and as if it couldn't get worse, he watched as nathan hit the fence, watched the metal go straight through his chest. it must have killed him instantly. and even now, even though they were both alive and alone here, the guilt still ate simon from the inside out. he never knew what to say. 

it took a while before he remembered why they were there in the first place, but then it hit him. the future. nathan had been uncharacteristically quiet lately, only making about half of the terrible jokes he used to. sure, waking up after being buried alive would take a toll on a person, but nathan never seemed too bothered by it. he never seemed bothered by _anything_. this was about something else, something so awful it could make him act noticeably different.

“why are you so worried about the future?” simon finally asked nathan the question that had been eating him away all night. something was off.

“who says i’m worried?” nathan retorted defensively. 

“you said you were having a crisis.”

“no, _you_ said i was having a crisis. i accused you of spying on me.”

“ _are_ you worried?” simon rephrased the question, cursing himself for speaking in the first place. 

“i don’t get worried,” was all nathan had to say. typical. 

simon sighed, not in any mood to deal with nathan’s stubbornness. he could easily argue right now; ask why nathan had texted him in the first place if he “doesn't get worried”, why he'd been so strange lately, but it wasn't worth it. nathan was a high-security castle, his words sharp like the arrows that would pierce the hearts of anyone who dared to get too close to the guards protecting his intricate walls. and simon had been numb before, he wasn't new to the concept. he'd been emotionless. hopeless. lost, and hell, even dead inside. but he never stopped worrying, no matter how bad things got. there was always something worth worrying about; either nathan was capable of something he wasn't, or it was all a load of shit. 

he didn't feel like sticking around to fight about it. 

“i guess i’ll go, then.”

“seriously?” nathan asked incredulously as he watched simon stand and grab his things. “just because you have emotions and i don’t?”

“i just don’t have anything to say.” there was a sharp bite to simon’s voice, one that came from absolutely nowhere. nathan was confused, almost scared, but he'd never admit it. he just wanted to know what he’d done.

“fine,” nathan finally spoke up just as simon’s hand graced the doorknob. “i’ll talk.”

simon turned around hesitantly. 

“i’m listening.”

“it's a conversation, barry, sit back down.”

simon closed his eyes as he sighed again, wondering why he even bothered to put up with nathan most days; nonetheless, he still did exactly what the other man said, retreating back to his chair.

“so,” nathan continued, “maybe i do have feelings. don't be tellin’ anyone that, i've got a reputation to keep, but i guess… _maybe_ , if we’re getting into the specifics here, you might be right.”

“about what?”

“i guess i’m worried.”

“i know you are. i just don't know why.”

“jesus, you're making me confess everything, barry!” nathan threw his hands in the air in frustration, but still continued on. “i just don’t understand how you lot all have your lives planned out. how does that even work? i mean, fuck, in school they make you decide what you wanna do forever before you can even legally drink!”

“well, what would you want to do? if you could do anything?”

“nothing. that's the thing. i don’t want to do anything, but i have to.”

“you could go to college. lots of people find their passions there.”

“nope. i’m done with learning shit.” nathan groaned and leaned back in his seat, staring up at nothing in a sad attempt at zoning out. for once, it didn't work. 

“i have no idea what comes next,” he continued. “i’ve never been good at anything. i don't even have any unrealistic dreams, like becoming famous or whatever. i just wanna sit around and exist.”

“you have all the time in the world. literally.” simon couldn’t think of much else to say.

“does that really make it better, though?”

the two finally made eye contact as nathan’s voice began to waver. knowing full well he wasn’t about to let himself cry in front of anyone, let alone _barry_ , nathan shifted subjects the only way he knew how.

“god, you’re a real pessimist, barry.”

“i’m a realist. you’re the pessimist.”

“okay, whatever. forgot you were the brains of the group.”

“i just think you’ll find something.”

nathan fell silent. simon couldn’t even make out his features in the dark, unable to read nathan’s expression at all. that uncharacteristic quiet was back, more unsettling than ever.

“nathan?” simon finally spoke up, afraid he’d said something wrong.

“just fuckin’ leave it, yeah?” nathan snapped. “i’m not gonna find shit. i’m living in this goddamn _community centre_ , for fuck’s sake! if i had any skills or work experience, i wouldn’t be in this situation, now would i? you can go home. i knew you'd end up spewing some bullshit anyways.” he sighed heavily and crossed his arms, and simon was just barely able to see the slender figure turning away from him.

“i’m sorry.”

“not your fault i’m a bag of wasted potential.”

the sound of another bottle opening filled the air, which simon took as nathan’s way of telling him to fuck off. he grabbed his jacket and stood up again, not hearing any protests this time.

“you’re not what you think you are.” simon spoke with his back to nathan, hand resting on the doorknob. “it’s nobody’s fault you haven’t found your passion yet.”

receiving no response, he opened the door and walked back into the unlit centre, never looking back. nathan listened intently to the retreating footsteps on the metal staircase until they were inaudible, then laughed to himself, shaking his head in disbelief.

“i'm not what i think i am."

tears followed that forced laughter, unseen and unheard by anyone besides nathan himself.

"i must be worse."

the last sounds in wertham that night were those of a third beer bottle shattering against the pavement, followed by the loud slam of a heavy door.

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't bother to proofread this because i wrote it in the middle of the night to vent while contemplating my existence and listening to a sad playlist, let me know if it sucks or not. chapter title's from "the devil in my bloodstream" by the wonder years (which i'm listening to right now and man it hits) & there's a few scattered references to the lyrics in here. i think.  
> simon's experience with the suffocating feeling of wearing earbuds inside is based on my own; managed to overcome it while writing this, though.  
> i suck at formalities and i'm new here, so sorry about all this but i hope yall at least enjoyed this diary entry of a fic


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